


Thirty Steps

by Karfraegh18



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karfraegh18/pseuds/Karfraegh18
Summary: Jensen lost his lover to hate. It made him hide away, protect himself, isolate himself. His only real connection to the outside world is through his computer and a tech support guy called Jared.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Jensen couldn’t entirely pin point the very day it all started. Couldn’t tell the doctors and the specialists the point at which leaving the house had become a problem. They laid the blame at the door of what they loosely called the accident, and what the cops specifically called a hate crime.

_Well if you force it onto other people...what do you expect?_

No one had actually said those words to him, but he knew that is what the cops meant when they frowned at his explanation and scribbled in their notebooks. Apparently (and was Jensen and his now dead boyfriend aware of this?) public displays of affection between him and his boyfriend in the queue at a cinema were just asking for trouble. He had heard it enough, when he sat in the gutter, cradling Nick’s head in his hands, watching the life leave his lover’s beautiful blue eyes, his blood staining through Jensen’s clothes. They had been nineteen, and so very much in love. Confident with the cockiness of youth, out and proud of it, standing in line for tickets and laughing over something their programming lecturer had said, when _it_ happened.

These were no rednecks, no placard waving bigots, just teenagers. Normal teenagers, in jeans and sweatshirts, nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that they were high on something. They pushed Jensen and he stumbled and fell, the bone in his left thigh fracturing on impact, an unlucky fall, nothing more. Then…

If only Nick had just helped him, instead of turning on the group and calling them on their catcalls, then maybe, just maybe, he would be here today. But he didn’t. Nick wasn’t like that, he had principals and temper and he fought back, one against five, confronted their drug-hazed violence. He was silenced, so very quickly, by the business end of a broken bottle, the jagged glass a clean cut across his jugular, the scarlet evidence as quick as a blink of the eye. It was the boys that called 911, dispersing almost instantly, terror in their eyes, with no witnesses that came forward. The evidence of their crime probably washed away in their mom’s washing machines at forty degrees. Jensen couldn’t even identify them, describe them, in so much pain, in shock, but the violence never left him.

Jensen went through the motions, like you do. He went to the funeral, on a hot Dallas day, with Nick’s parents refusing to accept it was a hate crime, that their son couldn’t possibly be gay, after all he played football didn’t he? Jensen didn’t make their grief worse, didn’t argue that Nick wasn’t just his best friend, but was, in fact, the man he loved. He didn’t tell that that they had planned to move to Canada for work after college and start a family of their own, married and happy. It wasn’t fair on them to tell them. Was it?

Apparently, so the doctors said, the leg bones are the longest and strongest bones in a person’s body. When you stand or walk, all the weight of your upper body rests on them, and Jensen’s femur had cracked. It takes a lot of force to do that, they told him, _but I only stumbled off of the kerb,_ Jensen had replied. They looked sad. After all the patient had just lost his boyfriend in a violent and bloody way, and his leg would need a lot of healing. They didn’t know what to say to make it better so they referred him for counseling and ticked the relevant box on their clipboard.

So when asked, by the counselors he struggled with for years, and with the doctors who visited him, he just said, _I was in an accident, I think it started then._ He hadn’t been the loudest most confident person _before_ the accident, and _since_ the accident any small amount of confidence he may have had had disappeared. He wasn’t shy exactly, more like reclusive, like Howard Hughes.

Agoraphobia was what the doctor’s labeled it and gave him medication that was to help settle his nerves. They all said it was a "fear of open spaces" but Jensen knew different. It wasn’t open spaces; it was like he had this unreasonable fear and anxiety whenever confronted with unfamiliar surroundings or situations, leading to god awful panic attacks. It morphed, so that this fear became more a fear of having another panic attack, a vicious cycle setting in. Avoiding these situations was easy. Don’t go anywhere. Lead a life of self-imposed isolation. Be happy.

Then Jensen discovered that his skills with computers meant he could earn a living from the comfort of his own home, and added to that, the local grocery store delivered his online orders. He had no necessity to leave the house, he even found a dentist that would visit, and he cut his own hair. Admittedly his hair was a shaggy mess, but no one saw it, apart from delivery guys and none of them sparked his dormant gaydar or showed any interest in the weird scruffy guy in apartment five.

He had passed his twenty third birthday alone and happy, passed his twenty sixth birthday knowing it was nice to not have to push himself out there, being shy and all. When he got to twenty nine he wondered if maybe life outside his four walls was passing him by, and now he sat here five days from his thirtieth birthday and his shyness, had just morphed into becoming just damn lonely.

He did try. Even started a conversation with the grocery guy, who was so startled that he stumbled back over the five-pound bag of potatoes and the frozen sausages, sprawling open-mouthed on the floor. Jensen was mortified, scuttling back into the safety of his apartment and waiting as he usually did until the guy had gone before retrieving the food from the hall and sliding down the wall back inside his apartment until he sat, blank, staring at the groceries in their bags.

He gave up then. There was only the dentist and the post guy left really. The post guy was only about twelve, well he only looked twelve, and the dentist wasn’t due for another three months. He took to researching his _condition_ on the Internet, typing in helpful terms like _help me I am trapped in my house_ which returned a list starting with _help me get rid of house centipedes,_ which wasn’t helpful. His search on _I can't leave my house_ gave him a clear link to _I can't leave my house without concealer and chapstick!_ again probably a two on the sliding scale of usefulness.

What he needed was some kind of five-step plan, step one being stop fucking hiding, and step five being get a life. His eyes were a case in fact. He knew he needed new glasses; he was using glasses he ordered through vision express direct. He had no idea until they arrived of whether or not they were the right ones. His close up work was suffering, and his shoulder ached from hunching over the screen, trying to focus on detailed code and design. He only noticed the ache when he used his home gym in the spare room, the only real exercise he ever had. But damn, fruitless searches through google for home visiting opticians in the downtown Dallas area later, Jensen decided his eyes weren’t really that bad, and his shoulders were fine after painkillers and exercise.

He needed to keep fit, knew that otherwise he would end up dying in his apartment of laziness and obesity, not being found for months, probably not until the smell got too bad. Many deliveries later he had a working home gym, which spread way across his spare bedroom, and every day he would push his exercise until exhaustion made him stop. Whenever he stepped off of the treadmill he would stop in front of the large mirror, considering himself critically. Every day he wondered if the half person that stood looking back at him, would ever again be the man who managed to pull the most gorgeous boy on campus as his partner. And every day he pulled his shirt, always damp with sweat over his head, and turned back to the mirror, turning from side to side. He looked after himself, showered every day, brushed his teeth twice a day, washed his clothes, ordered new clothes from trendy online shops, he wasn’t going to let himself go, because one day he _would_ want to leave his isolation.

Every day he did this, looking at the shape of himself, at the face that looked back at him, it didn’t even make him sad anymore, when hazel green eyes looked back at him. Accusing eyes. Today he stood, no different to any other day, running strong hands down the planes of his chest. He wasn’t hard muscled by any stretch of the imagination, but his stomach was as flat as it had been when he was nineteen, and when he pushed down his sweats and looked at his half hard dick he saw firm strong thighs. He didn’t see a recluse, or an old guy finished with this world, he saw a man that should be out there living.

Sighing he continued to follow his morning routine, closing his hand around the length of him, twisting and pulling. Exercise, porn, come. Simple, and it worked every time. His porn collection was extensive, his head full of fantasies, and in about ten minutes he was finished and in the shower ready to face another day at his computer.

It was a day like any other. No difference to his routine, muesli, milk, coffee, newspaper, PC.

Except that this was the day he met Jared.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day one**

“Help Desk support Jared speaking how can I help you?”

“Hi, my customer number is oh seven eight two five C”

“Just checking…” Jensen rolled his pencil across his desk, picking it up and idly doodling on his A4 note pad, waiting for the usual questions. “Just for security purposes sir, can you give me the fifth letter of your password please?”

“L.”

“And the first?”

“L.”

”L again?”

”Yes.”

“OK, I have your account, you are one of our platinum customers Mr Eckles.”

“Ackles,”

“Sorry, Ackles, Mr Jansen Ackles, can I call you Jansen?”

“No, Jensen, and yes you can call me Jensen.” It was at times like this that Jensen cursed his parents for giving him such an unusual first name, matched with a strange sounding surname, and not for the first time thought about changing it to Steve, or Chris, or something equally easy.

“How can we help you today Jensen?”

“My backup script software is failing at the third level,” Jensen explained succinctly, listening as the guy on the end of the phone began tap-tapping on his keyboard, the only sound through Jensen’s hands free system was the sound of Jared tunelessly half whistling as he worked.

”I just need to check the script, can you hold?”

Jensen half sighed, waiting was not his strong point. “OK,” he said and then winced as he was switched over to the end of a Britney Spears cover, which segued rather seamlessly into the national anthem, which was kind of scary in itself. Especially considering Jensen found himself singing along, which rather embarrassingly was witnessed by a suddenly returning help desk guy.

“Jensen, I have traced the fault and switched you over to the backup side, can you check it works over tonight? Let us know if you experience any further difficulties?”

“I will,” Jensen felt like he suddenly wanted to extend this short conversation, wondering if the soft lilting Texan tones belonged to a hot gay guy and wondering if he did house calls. What else could he say? What else could he ask? “I was considering an upgrade to diamond support,” he threw out suddenly, hearing the unspoken question in the silence from the tech support guy.

“OK, I’ll pass you through to our Sales department.” Damn, Sales… he didn’t want sales, he wanted hot naked sweaty support guy. He snorted to himself, wondering when tracing a security fault became, in his head, an offer for sex from what was probably a three hundred pound heterosexual virgin who still lived with his parents.

“Thank you,” he replied weakly, and then heard quite a lot more Britney before being passed through to Veronica in the Sales department. Veronica with her perky assurances that diamond service included a named support person, and one hundred percent always there amazing totally brilliant twenty-four hours support. Jensen didn’t even question the obvious problem there. How could his named support contact be available twenty four seven? Didn’t they sleep? Jensen leaned back in his chair, stretching his hands up to the ceiling and yawning widely, imagining three hundred pound guy in his parents basement on call at all times in case of back up script failure for Jensen’s websites.

It made him smile. It was kind of a sad smile though. There but for the grace of god was he not 300lb and a virgin.

**Day two**  
  
“Help Desk support Jared speaking how can I help you?”

“Hi, my customer number is oh seven eight two five C”

Just checking…can you give me the second letter of your password please?”

“O.”

“And the fourth?”

“E.”

”Mr Eckles.”

“Ackles.”

“My apologies Mr Ackles, can I call you Jansen?”

“Jensen.”

“Again I apologise. How can I help Jensen.”

“You asked me to call back if I had issues with my back up.”

“Ah, yes, your records show you called yesterday, about the backup script software failing at the third level.”

“Yes… it worked fine.” Silence. Nothing but empty silence.

“Erm…thank you for letting us know Jensen.”

“Bye.” Jensen dropped the call, banging his head on the desk, could he get any more lame, calling tech support just for that one voice. Three hundred pound, parents basement, BO, not gay… it was a litany he repeated again and again, even as he tried to fall sleep that night.

**Day Three**

“Help Desk support Jared speaking how can I help you?”

“Hi, my customer number is oh seven eight two five C”

“Just checking…can you give me the third letter of your password please?”

“N.”

“And the last”

“Y.”

”N and Y?”

”Yes.”

“OK, I have your account, Mr Eckles.”

“Ackles,”

“Sorry Ackles, Mr Jensen Ackles, can I call you Jensen?” Jared didn’t answer, but at least the tech guy hadn’t called him Jansen.

“I need to order a full audit of my dedicated server's security settings.” Jensen said, as briskly and confidently as he could.

“The full $899 audit.”

“Yes.”

“No problem, I have ordered that for you, results will be emailed you. We also have the opportunity for a one to one review with tech support as part of that package.” Jensen pumped the air with his fist on hearing that and then subsided into embarrassment at his excitement. Jared continued, “we find that the best way of doing that, is to use our online internal messenging service, it takes seconds to set up and gives you dedicated support to a specific tech support representative.”

“You?” Jensen blurted out, blushing…again. Tech support Jared was silent again, and Jensen was aware he was probably coming across as creepy and ever so slightly odd.

“If you would like to go ahead with that request I can certainly pass that up the line.”

“You seem to know what you are talking about.” Jensen offered lamely, and then stopped talking as he listened to Jared typing, _don’t say anymore, don’t look any more stupid, don’t say anymore._

“Well I do try,” Jared laughed, “OK, all done, when would you be available to go over setting up the link?”

“Hang on let me just check my diary,” Jensen lied, pausing long enough to back up the lie. “How about tomorrow morning?”

”Any particular time?”

“I could do 11?”

”11 it is, will this be the number that I contact you on?

**Day Four**

So Jensen exercised, showered, shaved, and sat at his desk at 9:09 exactly. He skimmed some news, noted some queries on the new project that was swallowing his design time, and then at 9:35 sat and started to wait. When the phone rang at 10:58 it was all Jensen could do not to leap and answer on the first ring. He waited three and lifted the phone.

“Good morning Mr Ackles, this is Jared from tech support for our 11am tech meeting.”

“Call me Jensen.”

“Jensen, lovely day today, can’t beat Dallas in the spring can you?” Jensen grimaced, he couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced Spring face to face, man to man, only seeing it from his bedroom window that overlooked the park.

“No, for sure.” Jensen said, aware of the social niceties and what he should be saying in return to Jared’s enthusiastic summing up of the weather outside.

“So, I sent you the connect file in an email, can you check your inbox?” Jensen didn’t tell him that he had spotted the email a millisecond after it had arrived, seeing the email address jp782@techsupportdallas.com and wondering if the J was for Jared and wondering what the P stood for.

“I can…yep… here.”

“So, can you double click and start the installation,” Jared sounded so serious, so…technical…Jensen was disturbed to find his dick twitching at the guys voice. JUST at the guy’s voice. He did as he was told, installed the software and a dialogue box popped up on his screen, highlighted with a red border and showing a generic 'bod-picture' labeled with the moniker _jp782 has signed in_. He wondered what it showed at Jared’s end, probably the words _sad lonely old guy with cats_ or something equally pathetic.

“I’m in,” Jensen said simply.

“OK we can disconnect this call in a minute and just move to the messenger system, I’ll run through how it works, first off though, you can customise this screen, go to tools and settings and choose a colour. Jensen followed the instructions, choosing a bright fuchsia pink for his messenger box, and listening as Jared pointed out how to add an avatar, his user picture. Jensen moved his way slowly through his MyPictures folder, a picture of the siamese cat that sometimes sat outside his window, no, that implied sad man. The standard Windows sunset, well that was boring. A picture of him when he was sixteen, jeez no. What summed him up? What did he want Jared to think of him? It was so difficult - this screen image problem. Finally he clicked on a random image from his hard drive. Waiting for it to upload and display, so deep in concentrating on exactly what picture was relevant, that he was startled at Jared’s voice in his ears

”You’re a Robert Downey Junior fan? I thought he was awesome in Iron Man.”

A fellow RDJ fan? Common ground? Awesome. “I loved him in like early stuff, Chaplin…” Jensen trailed off, shit who the hell in their twenties had seen Chaplin?

“I haven’t seen that one,” Jared confirmed Jensen’s summing up of the lack of his social life in that one sentence and he grimaced. Jared continued, “have you seen Sherlock Holmes yet? His muscles? Insane, so freaking hot.” Silence. Hang on. Jared, tech guy, three hundred pounds, basement, nerd, virgin? He thought RDJ was hot…as in…hot? “So,” Jared coughed, embarrassment in his voice, “auditing the server….”

++++++++++++++++++++

Jared sat back in his seat, pulling off the headphones and dropping them on his table, startled at the knock on the door, lifting his head just as Veronica danced in with a pile of papers in her hand. He groaned, he hated paperwork.

“Since when do we offer one on one tech support with a named tech support guy?” Veronica asked, nodding at the blinking cursor in the messenger screen on Jared’s desktop. “Tech said they have been told to release one of our customers for this new pilot scheme. Wanna share?”

Jared had the grace to blush, wondering how he was going to explain this, “wanna know what this guy’s password is?”

“We shouldn’t know passwords,” Veronica interrupted quickly and Jared just quirked an eyebrow.

“This was too obvious Ron, L, L, O, E, N and Y, it spells lonely.”

“How the hell do you know it and why is it seemingly now your problem?”

Jared scrubbed eyes with his fists and sighed heavily, “he lives two doors down from me. He never leaves the front door, well not that I can see, not that anyone can see. I didn’t know him, it’s just I put two and two together when he rang last week for the back up issue and his address was just kind of there on my screen.”

“So let me get this straight. You friended a weird guy who probably has nine cats, bad BO, weighs 300lb, is 'lonely' and hides bodies in his basement?” his friend sat on the edge of his desk, tapping her nails on the wood.

“It’s horrible being lonely, and he has a nice voice, I don’t mind chatting to him.”

“Well the tech guys are worried that we are offering this support service to all of our customers, some of them are threatening to defect.”

“They are?” Jared looked up, worry evident in his frown.

“Yeah. I believe the words _twenty four hour coverage, one to one support_ and _fuck off_ were used in the same sentence by everyone except Angela, who as we know has no social life and seemed actually quite excited.”

“I’ll talk to them at break, let them know it’s just a one off and it is just me,” Jared said quickly, the team of techs were good and he didn’t want to be responsible for them leaving.

“OK, well, it’s your company Jay, you do what you want. Just…” her voice tailed off as she looked down at the serious and brilliant young man that was like her surrogate son, “…be careful boss. For me? Yeah?”

Jared leaned back in his chair, looking up at a concerned Veronica, a smile on his face, “I will Ron, I promise.”

+++++++++++++++++++

**Day seven**

The message popped up just as Jensen finished coding a particularly difficult piece of design and was thinking of stopping for coffee.

_JP782: Morning Mr Ackles_

_Jackles5: Hello_

What else could he put? Hello help desk person? Hello Jared?

_Jackles5: Call me Jensen_

_JP782: Sorry Jensen, just a quick message, how is it going with the new audit?_.

Jensen paused, his fingers hovering over the keypad, he was feeling strange. This guy...this Jared...was interested in him, was interested in what he had to say. He almost typed a joke back, almost made a reference to the audit of his server being as complicated as watching the Matrix, then realising that would just reveal him for the total nerd he was. Instead he thought carefully and ended up typing a short, _everything is OK, thank you_.

The cursor was flashing and a message appeared telling him Jared was typing, and he felt his heart leap in his chest at the anticipation of what the guy was going to say. He was typing a long time, the message still telling him _JP782 is typing…. JP782 is typing…_

_JP782: Good_

Good? That was it? Just good? All that waiting and all he ended up sending was one single word? Jensen frowned, the _JP782 is typing_ message indicated Jared had been typing a lot longer than that.

Jensen pulled his finger back from resting on the keyboard, sudden disappointment washing over him. He should be typing something witty, something sharp, something clever… making a friend, not chasing a potential friend away in fear of what to damn well type. He stood in self disgust and moved to his small kitchen, making coffee, all the time deliberately not looking at the screen to see if Jared had added anymore. He made it last ten minutes and got back to see five messages blinking steadily and he read them one by one

_JP782: brb_  
JP782: Sorry about that, Sales had a query… lovely spring day again  
JP782: I think I need coffee  
JP782: So is it worth watching Chaplin then? Is RDJ any good in it?  
JP782: Sorry got to go…ttyl maybe 

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Shit.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day ten**  
  
Jared finished his run and started his cool down stretching on the street outside his apartment block, the clear spring morning was cool on his heated skin and he stretched pleasantly tired muscles with a smile.

“Morning,” Jared looked up, grinning at the old lady who lived in the corner apartment, her window open to the morning and her duster flying and catching dust around the window frame.

“Morning Eve,” Jared replied, jogging the few steps to her window and leaning in to pet the Siamese cat that was winding around her arm as she busied herself tidying and polishing.

“You not working today?” she asked curiously, and Jared’s grin just widened.

“Perks of being the boss,” he said laughing, “I pulled a virtual all nighter, laid in until 8 this morning, sinful.” He leaned back and stretched tall, sweat glistening on his hazel skin and skin pulled tight over strong muscles.

“A whole 8 o’clock eh?” Eve stated wryly, looking Jared up and down like he knew his momma would if she were here, “all this working and this running… you need to be taking care of yourself young man.”

Jared looked down, scuffing his expensive Nikes and peering up at her through his long floppy hair. “I know… I will…” he said mischief in his voice. He loved Eve like his granny, she was a mine of useful information, including… “Eve what can you tell me about the guy living in five?”

Eve scrunched her nose in concentration, “Jensen,” she said simply, “poor man. Heard he lost his partner a long while back, became almost a recluse, no one sees him, except for the postman and the delivery guys.”

“What happened to the partner?” Jared was curious, knowing he could probably google Jensen’s name to see what hits he could get, but instead wanting to know from Eve.

Eve shook her head, “I don’t know the whole story,” she frowned. It was unusual for her not to know everything about anything in the block and she was obviously slightly miffed that she couldn’t give Jared any more information. Then she brightened, “I know his partner was another man,” she finished quickly, her eyes widening as she put two and two together, and then she added slyly, “you should knock on his door, a fine boy like you all on your own, and him being all on his own…” her voice tailed off and she tutted as he bent down to give her the customary peck on the cheek and quick hug.

“Stop with the matchmaking Eve McAdams.”

“Never Jared Padalecki, never.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jensen was absolutely gutted about yesterday. The thought that 300lb Jared wanted to exchange the time of day with him was awesome, and scary, and lovely, and frightening all at the same time. So he did what he did best, he buried himself in work and tried to forget what the world outside was all about, which worked well for at least an hour. All until the message appeared at 11:05. Jared.

_JP782: Morning Jensen_

_Jackles5: Hello_  
Jackles5: Sorry i missed you before  
Jackles5: Yes Chaplin is an awesome film  
Jackles5: I saw ITunes have it available to rent  
Jackles5: RDJ is brilliant 

Pause. Jensen was verging on scarlet at what he had just done, dumping the virtual equivalent of verbal diarrhea on the poor tech guy. Wishing, not for the first time, that there was an undo on the messaging system.

_JP782: Cool. We should hire it together and watch at the same time on line…?_

_Jackles5: me here and you there…?_

_JP782: Yes, I do that all the time with my sister_  
JP782: only when you not busy…  
JP782: if you have time  
JP782: we don’t have too 

_Jackles5: no  
Jackles5: I mean, that would be cool_

_JP782: tonight?_

Which is how, at 7:00 exactly they sat to watch Chaplin on their own computers passing messages back and forth, some serious, some from Jared being quite jokey, and some from Jensen actually verging on relaxed.

They messaged until 2am, which is how Jensen found out Jared was a middle child, was scared of spiders and had once phoned a friend across town to come remove one from his bath, and that he loved Chinese takeout.

It was only when Jensen was laying in his bed that he realised something. What if he himself was frightened of spiders and he found one in his apartment? Who the hell would come and help him?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day fourteen**  
  
The barbers shop wasn’t far. Literally only ten steps from the front door of the building, Baldies was the place Jensen used to go before the…just before. He had made it to the front door of his building on several occasions in the last few years. Always beginning with strong determination that he was going to conquer the irrational fear. The fear that stopped his breath and clutched his heart whenever he stepped foot past the invisible boundary. He had seen the old lady in the corner apartment, cleaning the carpet outside her door on two separate occasions, but she didn’t say anything to him and he didn’t meet her gaze with his own for fear she would want part of him. He had deliberately left his hair for two weeks now, and it was beyond shaggy, had moved onto mildly irritating. He rationalised that if he left it and it became un-tameable then his fucked up brain would have to let him leave the apartment building and take those few steps to get it cut.

He made it to the front door.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day twenty-three**

_Jackles5: so I have this thing_

_JP782: thing?_

_Jackles5: I don’t get out much_

_JP782: who does these days LOL_

_Jackles5: no this more than that_

_JP782: what is_

_Jackles5: I have agoraphobia_

_JP782: what’s that?_

_Jackles5: like… I don’t go out_

_JP782: socialising and stuff?_

_Jackles5: no, just out_

_JP782: never?_

_Jackles5: never_

_JP782: oh. OK. Wanna talk?_

_Jackles5: yeah, maybe I do, if that is ok_

_JP782: go for it_

_Jackles5: as long as you sure, I don’t want to bore you_

_JP782: is cool… go on…_

_Jackles5: I think it started when I lost Nick_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day twenty-four**

It was the day after the night before, and some of what Jensen had got out of his head and onto messages to Jared made it easier to contemplate moving past the front door.

He stood looking at the normality of the day, people walking past in twos and threes, chatting and laughing and talking on cell phones, some with heads down intent on their business, and there… just there…the barbers.

The first step was like stepping on fire, the noise of the outside spinning in his ears and his mouth dry. The second step was almost like there was no turning back. He heard discordant sounds, felt his steps through every muscle in him and looked at the shop, the pinpoint focus of his eyes on the sign proclaiming $10 haircuts. The fifth, sixth, seventh steps, where he really was more than half way, his legs felt like lead, and he nearly stopped. He breathed deeply, holding it in for a second or two, and then slowly breathing out. He repeated this, knowing that it would stop the chemical reactions in his central nervous system that fed his anxiety, and would give him a chance to keep control. He tried the exercises, deep breathing, willing away the sharp pain building in his chest and trying to settle his thoughts.

Jared said he could do this. Jared with his beautiful, clever, hopeful words and his utter conviction that Jensen was a stronger person than the sum of his fears. The pressure on him, pressing down was nothing compared to the very real fear inside him and Jared had seen that. _What if you met those guys again, could they hurt you now? That is what is in your head Jensen, and you need to make yourself see that they can't hurt you any more than you already have been…_

“Sir?” the voice was polite, concerned, loud, and the hand that accompanied the words, a strong firm touch both grounded Jensen and scared the life out of him. He blinked at his surroundings, realising he had actually made it to the shop and thrust out a $20 note to the owner of the strong touch.

“Hair,” Jensen managed to force out, allowing himself to be sat down in the chair and covered with the white gown. He shut his eyes, couldn’t watch, didn’t want to see the blades and the images of others surrounding him, and breathing as calmly as he could he sensed the barber standing and waiting.

“What can I - ”

“Anything. Short.” Jensen interrupted, knowing he probably sounded rude, and eternally grateful when someone guided his hands to grasp a mug of thick black coffee. Nothing else was said, he had paid, his hair was cut, and in a short while, what seemed like mere minutes, he was back out on the street, only ten or so stumbling steps back to sanctuary, to the old lady’s cleaning and to the messages he would find in his in box.

It was later, much later, when Jared had signed off and Jensen stood with a yawn that he realised he didn’t even know what his hair looked like, had just described it as short to Jared in his message. Carefully he picked his way past magazines and files until he stood in front of the large mirror in the spare room. Startled his hands moved to touch the shortness of it all, the spiky fluffiness of the brown length, and his mouth fell open. He had cut his own hair for so long, that to get it cut now, by someone who knew what he was doing…well…none of it seemed real. He looked almost normal and he peered close at the way the hair twisted into the spikes and fell casually layered to his nape. He could do this.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day forty-four**

_JP782: J I think we need to meet, maybe have a coffee or something?_

Well jeez… he’ll see me…I can’t do that yet…I’m not ready…

_Jackles5: Maybe one day soon Jared, I’m sorry_

_JP782: No biggie Jensen, honestly_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day forty-seven**

_JP782: I’ve set up a web cam from my end… wanna see me?_

Yes? No! Yes. No.

_Jackles5: Yes_

Jared set the camera up, coming off of messaging and linking by headphone to cell, Jensen listening to every profanity as he attempted to get the damn thing to work. Finally Jared was there, sitting at his desk and Jensen could see him all.

So, Jensen thought to himself, Jared - built, gorgeous, chocolate hair falling about his face in disarray - was clearly not 300lb, and probably…definitely…likely **not** a virgin living in his mom’s basement.

He shuffled in his seat, suddenly and very obviously hard and needy in the time it took to think about how god damn pretty tech-Jared was.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day fifty-two**

The apartment block door to the café was only around thirty steps. One step for each year of his life. The first ten were easy, he had thirty years to walk in those thirty steps, and the first ten were like nothing.

Step five, he had just started school, cute and bright-eyed, the quiet boy at the back, artistic, always smiling, so happy.

Step sixteen, he lost his virginity to the class president. Angela, decidedly female and decidedly disappointed, when even teenage hormones couldn’t get Jensen to enjoy the ride.

Step eighteen, Nick. Finding Nick, loving Nick, promising Nick forever.

Step nineteen, Nick. He faltered and stopped. Losing Nick, watching his blood spread around them both as he pleaded with any god not to take the man he loved.

Step twenty, losing his way, his purpose, his need for living.

Step twenty four, locking himself away…in a prison of his own design.

Step thirty and he pushed open the door of the café, all eyes on the table to the left, at the man who promised him that they could maybe just be friends if that was all Jensen wanted.

Step thirty, Jared.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day fifty-five**  
  
Jared told Jensen everything, about living two doors down, about owning the tech support company Jensen used, and about getting his name wrong deliberately.

Jensen sat and listened; grief heavy in his heart. Grief that he had made Jared lie to him. Grief that people had to lie, or omit truth, just to talk to him. He could not be angry. Jared had widened his world so damn far, and he wanted it all, he craved the outside and he craved Jared.

For his part Jared looked guilty and sad as he told Jensen about himself.

"It's OK Jared. It's kinda useful you living two doors down." Jensen said simply. "You don't have to call your friend now... I kinda like spiders."

++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Day sixty-four**

They had met every day for coffee, at the same place, and Jensen knew every step between his apartment and the café like he knew the back of his hand. He attached his irrational fears to each step, imagining the very worst that could happen whenever he left his home, and then dismissing each nightmare with the clear thinking of daylight. Jared had taken to meeting him at the door to his apartment building and today Jensen wanted more, wanted him to come to his door.

They had started holding hands at the café, Jensen gripping like he couldn’t even consider letting go, Jared’s huge paw curled around his, stirring sugar into his coffee with his free hand. They talked, mostly it was Jared talking, simply because Jensen couldn’t conceive that anything he could say, would be of any interest, to the slice of pure life that was sat with him. Today was different, not only did Jensen want Jared to walk back to his apartment, he also wanted Jared to maybe come in for a coffee… or something…

“Of course,” Jared replied gently, grabbing extra cookies to take with them and paying the bill. They held hands for the thirty steps, the sunshine of the day spilling around them and with each step Jensen felt lighter. When his front door was there, the five looking a little tarnished Jensen felt nerves begin to build, not able to get the key in the lock and tears building behind his eyes. It didn’t matter, Jared just took the keys from him and unlocked the door, opening it to allow Jensen in first, Jared sorted it, made it easier. When the door closed and it was just the two of them, and the walls were solid around them both Jensen found he could relax. He made coffee, put the cakes on plates and carried the whole lot into the main room, seeing Jared stare at the wall next to his computer. Pictures of Hawaii, Canada, England, Italy… each one bright and clear…places Jensen went to in his head.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii,” Jared started carefully, “we could go together one day.”

Jensen placed the cakes and coffee onto the table in front of his widescreen TV and crossed to where Jared was standing, tracing a finger down the picture of beaches and the sea, a wistful smile on his face that he wasn’t even aware he had. He turned to face Jared, looking up at him, still astonished by how damn tall the man was, and leaned up to place a warm kiss on Jared’s lips. Jensen felt Jared kiss him back, his gentle hands resting on Jensen's arms and holding him still. It didn’t feel like he was trapped, it just felt incredibly right. The kisses turned heated as he took that final step, slotting himself into Jared’s arms and feeling completely at home. Jared was tall where he didn’t seem to be as much, despite knowing he was taller than six foot; he was hard muscles where Jensen was softer, rougher where Jensen was more careful with his gestures and his touches. Jared was life and fun and gregarious and so very much the exact opposite of what Jensen would ever be.

There was no movement to take this anywhere else, not to the bedroom, or even the sofa, the two of them just happy to stand and hug and smile and kiss.

"Tomorrow," Jared said gently, carding his hands through Jensen's soft short hair, "I think we should maybe try for the park."

Jensen blinked. Waited for the fear to curl inside him and force it's way out with a panicked gasp. But there was nothing. Nothing except the sudden wish to be able to take off his shoes and socks and feel grass soft and new against his bare skin.

"I think I'd like that," he said carefully, pressing his cheek against one of Jared's hands, half turning to press a kiss against warm skin.

"Tomorrow then?" Jared whispered with a smile.

"Tomorrow."

THE END


End file.
